Just so you know, I never asked to be obsessed with margaritas. I was simply born this way. By this section of my life, after a number of late nights with tequila and lime, I would say I’m a margarita connoisseur. My expertise is renowned by the three people in my household. All three of them, including myself.

The passionate tequila guy that I am, a little vine covered location snagged my gaze the other day, a giant calligraphic sign outside glowing the word “Mèjico” (Meh-he-co, for the non-cultured). My marg sensor went berserk.

Around the corner from my home, I take a table in the little restaurant and stare over the happy hour menu. I promised that I wouldn’t drink in the middle of the week, but my girlfriend suggested it as a fun thing to do after work. How am I supposed to argue with that logic?

$1 carne asada street tacos jump off the card and sucker punch me in the face. I know what I’m getting. $5 skinny margaritas make me feel less guilty about drinking mid-week. “I’m being so conscious of my diet,” I think to myself after my third.

The tangy yet refreshing comfort of the marg spills across my tongue. Nothing says summertime like lime and tequila…preferably a splash of orange liquor…on the rocks…salt around the rim. I’m pretty low maintenance. The skinny margarita could have easily been a regular marg based on the taste. They definitely weren’t stingy on the alcohol either in the best way possible. I give the drink 10 out of 10 skinny limes on my scale for skinny margs.

The carne asada tacos arrive with my girlfriends cheese quesadilla. Little palm-sized corn tortillas with a mound of beef, cilantro and onions lounging on top. Bite-size is the way to go, I always say. The quesadilla tastes spot on as well, especially in the spicy side salsa. A flavorful little kick in the mouth on the otherwise safe quesadilla.

It’s about this time that I take a look at their full-priced margs. I’m here so why not venture out. I opt for the Rosa Rita, a typical margarita by any other fashion with the exception of a Chambord (Black Raspberry liquor, for the non-alcoholics) float. Normally, I’m not one for fruity margaritas. I’m something of a purist when it comes to my drinks. However, this drink has the right amount of sweet to even out the otherwise sour marg. Off the happy hour menu, the drink is double the size, so concerned for paying too much fly out the plant covered door. 10 out of 10 raspberry limes on my scale for Chambord margarita. Most of my scales are limes.

Alas, I cannot drink forever, so we pay our tab and stumble on down the street home. I think I’ve found my neighborhood marg spot.